They Were Me

We’d unhappily see them as incredulous fluidities
While they saw it more as a type of limestone commodity
When we’d asked druids to show us future explanations,
They never gave it to us, instead
They chilly, told us
Where our wants should be,
More of what we should think and, or,
How we should feel, irrationally.

With our head in the clouds
Where we’d fail to consider,
With thinning breaths, while wearing
Dunce caps, thinking that
Mayhap cloudless firmaments existed
But gusty winds had rolled them over,
When we had put up a cold front
We would pay by missing it
Within similarities in the morphic,
“Dude, like el o el, wut?” ‘s

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That it Would Never Be

Cotton puffs softly blended in
Salmons, greys, and whites
Sprawl across blue-orange skies.
Heavenly bodies impartial
To incandescent spectral lights
Reflect love’s wishes,
Regardless.

Retracting conjured forms
Beamed in conversing flows
Within whorls of shared spaces
Banished
To would-never-be realities

Tell me,
Does love get easier over time